


War Between Brothers

by HelenC



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-04
Updated: 2020-02-04
Packaged: 2021-02-21 01:55:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22553224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HelenC/pseuds/HelenC
Summary: This is a Wild West fic using most of the cast of the Doctor Who episode Full Circle focussing mainly on Adric but without the Doctor or Romana, that I created at the request of 4thDoctorSpaceBohemian.I hope you like it.





	War Between Brothers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [4thDoctorSpaceBohemian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/4thDoctorSpaceBohemian/gifts).



A few of the townsfolk looked up, shielding their eyes from the hastily sinking sun, as the horse cantered into the main square, skidded to an abrupt halt, and Mayor Dexeter hurriedly dismounted, out of breath.

He caught a passerby by the arm “where... where can I find... the Sheriff?” he gasped.

With a frown, the man pointed to a squat building at the far end of the street. He wondered what the matter was; theirs was a generally sleepy town. Although the land was currently experiencing the worst drought in living memory and food shortages were affecting all, apart from the odd fights over the rationing system in place and folks who couldn’t handle their drink the role of sheriff was, practically speaking, only a symbolic post; a show of force to discourage law breaking. But recently there had been rumours of bandits in the area, of raids on neighbouring towns, even that notorious outlaw Varsh was back.

If The Mayor of the next town, many miles away, felt it necessary to give his message in person then maybe the rumours were true.

Dexeter brusquely nodded his thanks and ran off in the direction of the sheriff’s office. At the door, he stopped to catch his breath and knocked.

“Come in,” came a mildly annoyed voice from inside.

The Mayor opened the door and entered. Sheriff Adric was sat with his head bent over his desk an expression of rapt concentration on his face, an ink pen scritching and scratching at the sums and formulae on the paper before him. An unearthly looking diadem sat incongruously on the desk before him glistening with jewels. He didn’t look up at the new arrival until he seemed to reach a satisfying conclusion, then he sat back in his chair.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, folding his hands on the table in front of him, sounding as always detached and abnormally calm, which was largely the reason he had been appointed sheriff. A cool head could defuse most potentially dangerous situations. Although; his slightly condescending nature had a tendency to get some people’s backs up.

Despite being one of the most level headed people he knew and never usually prone to agitation Dexeter was desperate to deliver his message and get out of there, aware that what he had to say would provoke a reaction in even someone as rational as Adric. “Varsh is coming home, he is demanding a duel between the two of you at high noon three days from now,” he blurted out. Watching Adric’s face blur through a multitude of emotions he wisely backed straight out the door and went to find the resident Mayor, Draith. Leaving Adric to work out the chaos of reactions by himself.

Varsh was Adric’s older brother, when they were children they had been inseparable: running through the fields all day, playing games of make believe and getting into all sorts of trouble together. However things had begun to change irrevocably when Adric started school and his unnatural aptitude for mathematics came to light, he quickly found that the numbers sang to him in ways he couldn’t describe and as a result spent less time with his brother and more refining his analytical senses to better appreciate and glory in the purity of the equations that danced before his eyes. All the while Varsh found himself sliding into Adric’s shadow as he devoured all that his teachers had to teach him and more; heaping praise on him as he outstripped even the best of them. As a result, jealousy and resentment festered in his brother’s heart until he came to loathe his sibling’s more cerebral talent for numbers and his developing aura of aloof, cold rationality. As the years passed and Varsh increasingly turned to delinquency for validation, he regarded Adric’s tendency to use his talents in the service of such worthy abstracts as “law and order” and “justice” with the highest contempt.

It had been many years since Varsh had left his home to live the life of the outlaw and, in those years, had built quite the reputation for his pitiless treatment of the settlements he and his band raided. Rustling had quickly escalated into murder as citizens fought to protect their own.

And now he was coming back home, that meant only one thing. Something that had been inevitable since the moment he left. The showdown between the law and the outlaw, brother against brother and Adric knew that Varsh would give no quarter; it would be a fight to the death.

All this passed across Adric’s mind in a moment, he would have to fight his own brother, the only kin he had in the world, and he would have to kill him. He swallowed hard. There had to be another option, surely he could just incapacitate him and jail him. But the logical voice in his head countered ‘how long would that hold him? He’s escaped from many prisons many times before; _he_ won’t rest until you are dead. There is no other choice.’

For the first time in his life, he wished that oh so rational voice would shut up. He didn’t even know if he had it in him to kill. He had never had to before; he had always managed to resolve disputes peacefully in the past. And now he was to be forced to test that ultimate moral question on someone who no matter what they had become, was still family.

Out of the tumult of emotions, one thought solidified itself as, almost on autopilot, he left his desk and made his way to the saloon ‘I need a drink.’

Adric pushed through the doors as casually as he could, it wouldn’t do to alarm the people, and sat on a stool at the bar hastily but discreetly vacated.

Login the bartender was drying glasses when he noticed the sheriff at the bar “what’ll you have?” he asked out of politeness as Adric only ever ordered soft drinks. Adric dropped a few coins on the bar. “A whiskey, please,” he murmured, not wanting to draw attention to himself; he was more than aware how out of character this request was and had no wish to fuel the unsubstantiated flights of fancy that the regular folk were prone to. 

Login looked up hesitantly, but a new turmoil he saw in the sheriff’s eyes made him pour an extra large one without even considering charging him the extra. He had seen that look before on the faces of men who had to make impossible life and death decisions and wished one still so young didn’t need to make such a choice.

As he had feared his aberrant behaviour hadn’t gone unnoticed by the other patrons either, and they exchanged curious, slightly fearful glances.

Adric swilled the whiskey absently round the bottom of the glass and took a mouthful, barely aware of the slight burning sensation at the back of his throat, as his mind cycled through possible solutions dismissing each in turn, faster and faster until he closed his eyes in frustration and his knuckles whitened around the glass. Goddammit!

The blessed mathematics he used to occupy his mind when there was no sheriffing to do flowed through his skull caressing and soothing his troubled mind like a lover; uncomplicated, alive.

Alive!

The maths in his head formed themselves into familiar streets and people until he could see a miniature replica of his beloved town complete with its residents.

His eyes snapped open. There was one possibility. His rational mind told him that it was a million to one chance of it even working, that it would never change the outcome: that his brother was beyond redemption. However he also knew that he could never beat him in a straight duel; he didn’t have it in him to kill his own brother. But if Varsh killed him, his town would suffer under the outlaw’s hand and he was their sheriff, he was responsible for his people; he couldn’t let that happen.

But, if he was going to do this, he knew he had to offer his best friend turned enemy a chance; for all his rationality, he had to hope, somehow, that he could have his brother back, the way they had been before, as children.

He had three days. No time at all. He downed the rest of his whiskey, his face set, and strode from the saloon with a purposeful air. The patrons watched him go with a mixture of relief and wonder but still tinged with fear: for themselves, for their unusual sheriff but also for the outlaw who would choose to face such a man.

Adric started work on the calculations immediately, visualising them in his head. During his communion with the abstracts of mathematics he had learnt that block transfer computation was possible and with secret practice had perfected the technique. He had learnt long ago that while to be exceptional in a field was fine, to be _too_ different in other fundamental ways caused suspicion, and he guessed that the ability to conjure apparent matter out of mere numbers definitely came under the category of _too_ different. This meant that with this new goal in place he could project a model version of the town and population on the top of his desk by the end of the first day.

He watched intently as the little people walked down the street, disappeared, and reappeared at the other end without missing a beat. “This is all well and good,” he said aloud, as if to the ant like characters before him but mostly to himself “but I need a life-sized replica. I need a lot more power.”

Experimentally he picked up the diadem. He had found before that it was capable of amplifying his own innate abilities, but only now did he consider its potential for so much more. He locked the door to his office and, slightly tentatively, set the crown upon his head and felt the familiar connection with the crystal at its centre. Cautiously he concentrated his attentions at the rapidly fading model before him causing it to come abruptly in to a sharper focus than he had ever managed before. It soon expanded beyond the extent of the table but there was still not enough power for full projection. Nevertheless Adric looked upon his experiment with eyes full of hope. He knew where he could collect more crystals to glean the extra necessary power.

On the morning of the second day Adric rose early and, carrying the additional crystals he had gathered, rode out a couple of miles until he came across a rise that would hide the entire town in the valley beyond. Standing on top of the ridge he peered through his binoculars; perfect, there were a few such rises between here and where he knew Varsh would be headed from allowing him to see Varsh long before Varsh saw him. He scrambled down the other side until he was again standing on level ground and retrieved the crystals from his knapsack.

He placed them in a rough circle in the sunlight with himself sitting cross-legged at the centre. He placed the diadem carefully on his head, closed his eyes and concentrated totally on the numbers flowing through his mind, giving life to the imitation he was creating. Buildings rose from dust, ordinary people went about their business, Saloon, Apothecary, Livery Stable. It nearly fooled even him as he walked among them, testing the boundaries of the real and the imagined. With extra effort a replica of himself materialised before him. For an idle moment he found himself wondering if he really looked like that before his rational side wrested control, now was really no time for vanity.

This was the ultimate test, the rest was really nothing more than window dressing but nevertheless it would have to be foolproof if he was to catch Varsh in this trap. It took a lot of effort but he found he was able to maintain the false town for at least an hour before exhaustion caused the streets increasingly to run into one another before fading out of existence entirely. He slumped to the ground and took a drink of water from his flask, calming his mind before giving it another go.

He practiced like this until the sun was low in the sky, whereupon further attempts became impossible due to the fading light. He had managed to buy himself an extra half an hour. He had an hour and a half to conclude this shoot out and convince Varsh that he still had a place with his brother; that they could be a family again. Putting it like that made Adric’s heart sink.

Given several weeks practice he could probably have been able to provide himself with more time but that wasn’t what was worrying him most. Despite his initial optimism he couldn’t shake the appalling feeling that he had lost his brother all those years ago and nothing he could say or do now would bring him back.

Adric set his face like flint; no good would come of thinking like that, he had done all he could for the moment, tomorrow he would do his utmost to get through to his brother but ultimately it was Varsh’s decision and his alone.

Breathing a heavy sigh Adric gathered up the crystals and started back up the ridge to where his horse was patiently waiting.

Dawn came all too soon for Adric, slipping through the shutters of his windows like a dagger. He roused himself, washed and dressed as quickly as he could; he had to be at the site he’d found yesterday and make sure the counterfeit town was in place before Varsh arrived.

He’d enlisted one of the particularly keen eyed older children whom he was confident could keep secrets, to the task of lookout, providing him with Adric’s own binoculars and strict instructions to stay hidden behind the ridge and simply observe from there, calling out when the outlaw’s party came into view approaching the nearest rise and to not be surprised by anything he saw after that. It was going to be a tricky balancing act between making sure Varsh fell for the false town and giving himself maximum time to persuade him to join his side. Adric knew though that he had to put all that aside and simply focus on the task in front of him. He laid out the crystals and set the diadem again on his head but simply waited, every second would count today.

As soon as his impromptu watchman called out that he could see them, Adric dropped to the floor his mind completely focused on the plan as once again the buildings and people rose up around him as if they had always been there, just in time too as Varsh and his two fellow outlaws; Tylos and Keara crested the final ridge.

The real Adric melted into the shadows as he watched his doppelganger and the rest of his friends scurry about, securing houses, making sure the women and children were safe behind locked doors and bolted shutters in preparation for Varsh’s arrival.

He briefly felt a pang of guilt for them, these people believed themselves to be real; they would feel whatever happened to them next and here he was, more than prepared to use them merely as expendable decoys. He forced himself not to think like that; they were only abstracts with a limited lifespan, brought into being purely by your mathematics, they weren’t real. Idly, he mused that perhaps that was all anyone was but he quickly pushed this truly unhelpful thought out of his mind with a reproving scowl. Now definitely wasn’t the time for philosophizing. Pull yourself together!

From his hiding place, Adric saw Varsh and his select little gang ride through the gates where they dismounted coolly, ambling down the deserted main street as if they owned the place, casting intimidating glances at the nervous watchers on either side. Behind them, the stockade was shut hastily and the heavy wooden bar dropped into place, this confrontation would end here one way or another. Now that the town was a closed area Adric, very carefully, allowed the space that included the town to contract slightly, ensuring that, apart from the exit that he could perceive as creator, there would now be no other way out.

The townsfolk didn’t notice this fundamental change to their world but the outlaw’s horses sensed immediately that something was wrong, becoming suddenly skittish, their ears pressed back, nostrils flaring.

“Lousy, good for nothing mule!” snarled Varsh as he struck his terrified mount again and again with its reins until, in its agitation, it slipped his grip and galloped off down the street closely followed by its fellows.

Adric hadn’t factored in this new turn of events but he wasn’t unduly worried, he had seen which way the animals had turned, they obviously had much better perception than humans. He focused his attention back to the action in the street.

“Sheriff!” the voice in the still air rang like a bell “come out and face me!” nothing stirred. At a nearly imperceptible sign from their leader, Tylos and Keara roughly pulled random bystanders from the clustered onlookers and jammed guns against their heads. Although Adric noticed that the confident bravado was more of an act than they were letting on and they surreptitiously shot each other nervous glances when they thought Varsh wasn’t looking.

Varsh merely gazed impassively at the surrounding buildings, his face a mask of eerie calm; he knew Adric would never let others die to save himself. It would be the death of him. “I will give you five seconds, five... four...” a figure stepped out maybe ten paces from him. Although many years had passed since their last meeting, Varsh had no doubt that the young man before him had once been his little brother.

For a long while the two men just stood and watched one another, Adric saw the scars of a life spent fighting against the world, the obvious ones crisscrossing his hands and face but also the scars that ran deeper, the mad gleam in his eyes. Although he knew that it would precipitate violence if anything did, almost involuntarily, his face creased into an expression of deep pity. Looking on from the sidelines, the real Adric knew then that he had made the right decision in employing this subterfuge as Varsh, letting out a fierce cry of wounded pride and unfettered rage drew his guns and fired before his brother had even been able to draw his.

It was very uncanny watching yourself die Adric decided, flinching as his double fell heavily to the ground, like a puppet with its strings abruptly cut. There were cries of foul play and some of the more hotheaded men pointed guns in Varsh’s direction but he just nodded to his accomplices who, slightly reluctantly, tightened their grip on their hostages.

Varsh strolled leisurely to Adric’s prone body and rolled it over roughly with his boot. He had seen enough dead bodies to know that his brother truly was dead. He bent down, plucked the gold star off the breast of his brother’s shirt, and mockingly pinned it to his own.

He conspicuously cocked his gun and levelled it at the headstrong as if daring anyone to argue with his authority. He nodded to Tylos and Keara who released their hostages but kept their guns trained on the crowd.

Mayors Draith and Dexeter came forward sparing appalled looks to the lifeless heap that until a few minutes ago had been their sheriff, before pulling themselves together, they had a greater duty to the people of the town. Varsh considered these old men with amusement, ‘what could they ever do to him?’

“Mr Varsh,” Mayor Draith started then swallowed hard, this would go against everything he believed in, it was a betrayal of not only a highly respected and valued member of their town but also of a friend.

However, he reasoned, the safety of the town had to go before his personal scruples, he was sure there was nothing he could do to stop this man who came into their peaceful world with violence, who would kill and kill until he ruled them all with an iron fist. At least this way perhaps he may keep his people alive for long enough to come up with a concerted plan. He glanced mournfully at the lifeless, bloodstained body lying on the ground; he just hoped Adric would forgive him. “Although I will never condone the means by which you have gained the office of sheriff of our town...” here he bowed in shame of the conciliation he must make “you may keep the position... for now.”

Varsh just stared coolly at him, a hideous smirk twisting the corners of his lips, enjoying watching the man squirm. He knew what this coward would choose; he had taken the same path all the time Varsh had known him: the path of least resistance. ‘It’s pathetic; this place, these people could be so much more’ the outlaw mused ‘but instead they let themselves be content with peace and safety at the expense of autonomy, power. They’re complacent; they rely on their precious Sheriff to protect them and without him, they are sheep without a shepherd.’ Well, he’d be their shepherd now, and stagnation would turn to prosperity under his leadership.

As could have been expected, there was uproar at this capitulation and one young man seized an opportunity to fire on this usurper. He was far too late. Varsh had gunned him down before he’d even really been aware of the threat. Adric watched the violence from his hiding place, knots of guilt and sympathy churning his stomach, he ignored the discomfort; he was fast running out of time. If Varsh would just separate from his confederates, ah! They had been instructed to police the streets as Varsh himself entered the saloon, he would have to act now.

Just as Tylos and Keara passed his hiding place, he caused a metal pipe to fall clattering to the ground. ‘Yes!’ they were coming this way. ‘Keara’ he whispered, not wanting to startle her too much, she peered through the gloom. “Whoever’s there show yourself,” she ordered raising the weapon threateningly, though Adric could tell it was more to make herself feel more confident than to intimidate an opponent. He struck a match on the wall and held it up, letting her have a good look at his features before starting forward, catching the gun as it fell and clapping a hand to her mouth before she screamed. Tylos just stood at the mouth of the alley, his face sheet white, his jaw slack staring at the ghost facing him.

Keara pushed him away roughly and Adric took a step backwards, his hands raised placatingly. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“It was a trick, you cheated,” she said confidently but Adric could see she wasn’t as sure as she sounded. By way of answer he merely gestured back the way they’d come. Keara and Tylos glanced back slightly fearful, to see the body still lying on the street but by now respectfully covered with a sheet. They turned back to the apparently living man in front of them.

“You’re not real, you... you can’t be,” Keara stammered. Adric put his hand on her shoulder.

“I am, and I can save you and Tylos but I have to know something first.”

“What?”

“How far gone is Varsh?”

Tylos let out a derisive scoff but Keara’s eyes were suddenly clouded with uncertainty.

“You think Varsh is mad?! Ha! Varsh is strong, look how easily he was able to take over your precious little town,” although even he suddenly didn’t feel quite so cocky.

Adric didn’t spare a glance at Tylos, instead pressing his advantage in the doubt he saw in Keara, although he could see she had been harbouring it for some time. However, loyalty demanded a defence from these accusations.

“Varsh showed us that we didn’t have to follow any rules from killjoys like you,” she spat defiantly “we could do whatever we wanted to, take whatever we needed, we had power.”

“The power to kill? What about that?”

Keara tried to maintain eye contact, rebelliously, as if she really didn’t care but under his steely, uncompromising gaze broke away first. She kicked at the ground like a sullen teenager. “That was Varsh,” she muttered “we were just following his orders... They shouldn’t have fought back,” she finished slightly lamely.

What they should do is go get Varsh; he had killed this insufferable do-gooder once he could easily do it again. But they had never been entirely comfortable when people had started dying. Sure, it had been a hell of a buzz at first, to have the power of life and death in your hands, to know that you could snuff that life out like a candle. And Varsh made it seem like an entitlement rather than a crime; the natural authority of the strong over the weak. But with each raid, they watched as a kind of blood lust overtook their leader until any hint of resistance was met not by mere threats or the occasional hostage taken but by, immediate, indiscriminate deadly violence. Moreover, the casualness with which Varsh killed sickened them both.

But what could they do? Keara had voiced her concerns to him once and only once. He had made it abundantly clear what he thought of the townspeople they stole from and had intimated, with a knife frighteningly close to her face, that if his ‘friends’ weren’t with him then they were against him and that would be very bad news for them. Tylos had quickly apologised for Keara’s words and pulled her out of Varsh’s way. Later, when they were alone, he had warned her against such rash actions in the future but she could see in his eyes that he was secretly as terrified as she was they both knew now that what had started out as a rebellious adventure was quite likely to get them both killed: one way or another.

Adric made a decision, after all Varsh wouldn’t believe them even if they told him the truth.

“This whole place is a fabrication, none of its real. It’s a space-time trap to catch my brother and give me enough time to reason with him. The whole town will fold into itself and disappear in about an hour along with anyone still here when it does. I have no desire to trap you here with him but you should know that if you leave with me, while I will make sure you have a productive place in our society and protect you from people who wish you ill for your former outlaw status, you won’t have the levels of freedom you’re used to. You certainly won’t be allowed to venture far from the town. Maybe one day you’ll be forgiven for your part in Varsh’s destructive rampage and earn back greater liberties but I can make no guarantees.”

“We don’t need _your_ protection,” Tylos sneered almost automatically but Keara silenced him. She was thinking fast, they would be missed soon. If she were honest with herself she was growing tired of always being on the move, always keeping one eye open for the law, it might be nice to belong somewhere. But could they trust Adric’s promises of safety.

“What do you want us to do?” she asked hesitantly.

“Try to get through to Varsh. As far as he’s concerned he’s achieved what he most wanted in the world, he’s defeated and killed his hated brother and taken his place,” Adric couldn’t disguise the sadness and bitterness in his voice causing Keara and even Tylos to feel a pang of sympathy for him. “Don’t tell him you’ve seen me...just try to warn the townspeople to disappear into the alleys, tell _them_ I told you. We haven’t got long. I’ll be observing from here, I promise I’ll intervene if you’re in danger.”

He watched as they jogged back to the saloon with only one or two backward glances to his hiding place. He was almost certain they would come with him they had been enticed by tales of absolute freedom and adventure and got in too deep; he could offer them a relatively painless way out. But he had seen the fundamentally damaged man his duplicate had and this grand plan to get his brother back was starting to seem more futile than ever. He was aware of the surrounding space shrinking slowly around him, the streets getting shorter, buildings on the outer reaches of town gradually disappearing; not generally noticeable yet but the effect would only increase exponentially. Soon enough even Varsh would notice that there was something wrong with the world. He was desperately running out of time.

A commotion in the saloon drew his attention. Two figures were pushed out to fall awkwardly to the ground followed by the swaggering figure of Varsh already apparently the worse for drink.

“You’re getting soft Keara! I thought I’d taught you not to question my actions, and you Tylos, honestly I expected better. These people are nothing but playthings to do with as I will, and now I consider it, as you so accurately point out, I have everything I’ve always wanted I really can’t think of a reason to keep you and your pathetic little friend around anymore.” Varsh levelled his gun at Keara but before he could fire a shot hit the brickwork next to his ear.

“Show yourself!” he demanded his narrowed gaze flitting between alleyways trying to locate his assailant.

“No, you’ll have to catch me first.” A voice he recognised echoed around the walls.

“Why should I when I have plenty of hostages right here,” again he pointed his gun at the space where Keara had been. He spun round to the suddenly strangely empty bar. He growled his displeasure, before assuming a calm facade cracked only around the mouth in a wicked grin.

“So you want to play hide and seek do you? Fine, I’ll play your game.” He ran across the street and down the alley he was sure the shots had come from... and suddenly found himself leaving the alley on the side from which he’d started. “Mazes is it? You won’t beat me like that.” He tried the lane next to the first he’d tried and found the same thing happened. “What the hell?”

“Varsh, just stop, listen to me please!” The voice implored.

“Oh no, I don’t believe in ghosts,” he called as he tried yet another street.

“Please, brother,” Adric stepped out from the shadows for an instant to try to show him that he was real only to have to duck back quickly as a bullet whizzed past his head.

“I’m sorry brother. It was my fault. I should have paid more attention to what was going on around me. If I hadn’t lost myself in the numbers... I should have realised I had a greater responsibility to you, my only family. I’m truly sorry.” And even as he meant every word, it cut him to the quick that he was using those selfsame numbers to bring about his brother’s downfall.

As he desperately tried to keep Varsh in sight, using his greater knowledge of the town to his advantage, Adric tried a different tack. “Do you remember how we used to play when we were kids? Cowboys and Indians? Pirates? We used to be friends.”

For a moment, Adric saw his enemy pause as an expression of regret and sadness passed across his features. Adric lowered his weapon in sudden hope. Then it was gone, replaced by a hideously mocking sneer. “Nice try, but in case you hadn’t noticed we’re not kids anymore. You just can’t take it that this time _I’ve_ won and there’s no way I’m going to let no shade spoil my victory.” He fired his gun wildly in the direction of the voice, intent on silencing this phantom.

As bullets struck the brickwork around him, Adric could feel himself losing control of the matrix, could feel it crashing down around him, but still he was unwilling to leave his brother.

“Varsh! Let me save you. Please!!!”

A voice rang out from behind him.

“Adric! What’s happening?! You promised you would save us! It’s too late for him. Please!!!” Keara shouted above the noise of a rapidly collapsing world. After a long moment, Adric tore his gaze from the pathetic figure and turned to Keara. “Take Tylos’s hand!” he instructed, as he took hold of hers.

He only very vaguely remembered guiding the two former outlaws to the exit, his legs pretty much working without his conscious input, his mind still lost in that hopeless confrontation. When they all collapsed on the sparse grass outside gasping for breath mere seconds before the, until very recently solid town, vanished into nothingness taking his brother with it Adric pulled himself to his knees but could only stare across the now empty expanse of valley, aghast at what he’d had to do.

Once Keara and Tylos had caught their breath they crawled across to where Adric knelt, slightly fearful of the young man’s powers. His face wore a haunted expression that made them shiver as if someone had just walked over their graves.

“I could be bounded in a nut shell and count myself king of infinite space,” he murmured before rising to his feet with a heavy sigh, looking as if he had aged decades in just the past couple of hours. He had managed to pull himself together more or less by the time they had scrambled up the side of the rise where a young kid was holding four horses steady.

“Sheriff Adric, these three came running out of the valley all of a sudden so I thought you might want me to round them up for you.” The two strangers noted that his young face shone with pride and a kind of hero worship. He was clear that he wanted more than anything for his sheriff to tell him he’d done a good job. Adric managed to tousle his hair playfully and set his own hat upon the kid’s head with the ghost of a smile. He pulled the diadem he had almost forgotten he was wearing roughly off his head and stuffed it in his saddlebag, before the four of them mounted their steeds, Adric taking Varsh’s, and rode in rather morose silence back to town.

They were greeted by a puzzled crowd as they entered through the gates, noon having come and gone a few hours ago. Adric dismounted and tied up his brother’s horse far more gently than he ever would have and turned to face the crowd.

“Varsh is... gone,” he announced, sending a susurration of whispers through the crowd. He held up his hand for silence, he was struggling to maintain his composure and just wanted to get through this as quickly as possible. He gestured to the two outsiders, “this is Keara and Tylos, they used to be part of Varsh’s gang but I have promised them sanctuary here and they have accepted my terms, as such they are under my protection. They will be given lodgings and meaningful, waged work.”

There was a pregnant pause until finally someone plucked up the courage to ask the question everyone wanted to know the answer to. “What happened out there, sheriff?”

Adric stared out at the crowd but did not see them; he saw the expression of regret that had crossed his brother’s face. If he’d had more time, if he could have held it together, if, if, if. In the dead silence that followed Adric’s whisper was as a shout, “I couldn’t save him.”

He shook his head as if ridding himself of those memories that he knew would haunt him forever and did his best to pull himself together.

“I would not condemn you for celebrating Varsh’s death, but you will forgive me if I don’t join you.” He stepped through the crowd, which parted before him, and walked alone back to his rooms above his office. No one would follow, he was sure, they knew he would want to be left alone to grieve in peace.

The following week, Adric paid for a small headstone to be carved for his brother, and set it up in a secluded patch of the town graveyard a way from the other graves.


End file.
